


Terminalia

by iceplums (halfbloodranger)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (for the first chapter), (kind of), Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Prose Poem, possibly vivid descriptions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 13:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13388550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfbloodranger/pseuds/iceplums
Summary: It hurts, trying to break down barriers that aren't meant to be.Rey doesn't want to listen to Ben.So she builds a wall.And Ben cannot do things by halves.So he throws himself against it.





	1. Still hard.

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a little graphic. Take care of yourselves.

_ this is how you tear down a wall. _

 

_ start with your feet. _

_ kick, hard, until your shoes are scuffed and you lose your balance. _

_ start with your feet because it’s easy to hide a limp. wear an extra pair of socks to hide the bruises. _

_ after that, try fists. _

_ punch, hit, pound your knuckles into the brick until they bleed crimson. maybe it will break the magic, maybe it will unlock the hidden door.  _

_ wrap bandages around your hands and hang up a punching bag. for practice, and for an excuse. _

_ then, your hips. _

_ throw your weight into the wall, get a running start. slam into it and feel the impact shudder up and down your spine.  _

_ these bruises are easy to hide. the ripped pants, less so.  _

_ now, shoulders. _

_ hurl yourself against the brick, feel the rough edges tear at your shirt, and what’s beneath it. clavicles are hard to break, but don’t let that stop you. _

_ learn to shorten the radius of the things you need. reaching is painful, in more ways than one. _

 

_ this is where most people stop. it’s too hard to hide scabs on your forehead, your lips. give up. turn around, shout one last thing to whatever’s behind that wall, and leave it to build your own. _

 

_ but you don’t. _

 

_ your whole body.  _

_ start many feet away, and don’t slow down as you get closer. speed up. feel the crunch as you collide with that wall. still hard. still cold. _

_ as you do it again. _

_ and again. _

_ and again. _

_ realize you’re starting closer each time. realize it’s harder to walk away. _

_ listen to the shredding of cloth as you fall against the wall again. look down. it’s not cloth. there is no magic spell; not one that opens with blood, anyway. if there was, it would have opened long ago. _

_ keep going. _

_ know that you fall and hit the ground more times than you reach the wall. _

_ know that every time you do it’s with more conviction than you have ever felt. _

_ keep going. _

_ feel your legs give way. _

_ feel the rough brick beneath your torn up fingers. _

_ feel the bits of mortar work their way into your skin. _

_ keep going. _

_ understand that you do not want to stop. _

_ understand that even if you wanted to, you could not. _

_ understand that there is no hiding this now. _

_ keep going. _

_ watch the spectators start to gather. _

_ watch them heckle and goad you from behind the wire fence. _

_ watch their eyes brighten as they realize you’ll die there, curled up on the asphalt at the base of this brick wall. _

_ keep going. _

_ keep going until the wall’s gone slick. _

_ keep going until you can’t feel your hands or your feet or your sides or your head or your thoughts. _

_ keep going. _

_ let your hands pound weakly at the wall one last time. _

_ let yourself slide down against it. _

_ let yourself sit. _

_ and let yourself feel the wall. still hard. still cold. _

 

_ do not nurse your wounds. do not pity yourself. let the pain feed you. let the past die.  _

 

_ you are too weak to kill it. _

 

_ it is too late to die. _


	2. Still cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, walls aren't meant to hold.  
> Sometimes, you have to choose to let them fall.

The pounding finally stopped. Months of battering at walls carefully built, a relentless rhythm behind every waking hour, and most resting ones as well. Frustration and annoyance strengthened the places he started to break through, patchwork mortar hastily applied. Months sleepless, months of headache. And now Rey wasn’t relieved. 

 

She was worried.

 

_ Kylo? _

Silence. Carefully, Rey envisioned her wall. And in it, she began to construct a door. Brick by brick, she pulled them out, stacking them carefully for later use.

 

_ Ben? _

She stepped through, and gasped.

He was smaller than she ever thought he could look. Huddled against her wall like it was a piece of driftwood in a stormy sea, he was barely recognizable. His hair was unwashed and uneven. His clothing was a mismatched collection of rags. And when he looked up at her, his face was filthy, tear tracks visible across deep, sleepless black circles and an emaciated jaw line. But it was him, and his eyes, when they finally focused, were so full of pain and need that Rey almost turned right back around and rebuilt her wall.

Ben tried to scrabble to his feet, but ended a pitiful sprawled mess. Rey sighed. 

 

“Let me help.” She stepped forward, out of the safety of her wall. She reached for him, and his whole body struggled violently between the options of accepting her help and staying on the ground. In the end, his arms won out, reaching back and letting her help him up. He stood swaying in front of her.

 

“Rey.” His voice was hoarse with disuse, broken and raw. 

“Now that I’m out here, what do you want?”

Ben seemed to struggle with that. He tried to spit out many things, but what finally came out was the truth. “I don’t know. You.”

Rey frowned and looked away. “I told you, I’m not join-”

“That’s not what I mean. I haven’t spoken to anyone in the First Order in five months. I think they think I’m dead.”

Come to think of it, the First Order had been generally more successful recently. “If not anyone there, who have you talked to?”

“No one.” Ben looked away, blinking. Rey just watched him.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you?”

“Carlac.”

“That’s outer rim, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Does the First Order know?”

“No.”

Rey took a deep breath, and looked back at her wall. Tall, perfectly straight, and the result of many weeks of training after she decided to close the Falcon’s door. But maybe it was time to start lowering it. Build some doors. Some windows.

“Do you want me to come?”

Ben just stared. Then, as her words registered, she watched as the tears welled in his eyes and she held his gaze steady. Slowly, stiffly, like an old man bending to pray, Ben nodded.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

 

_ I won’t. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very different from my usual writing. It was pleasant, in a cathartic kind of way. Terminalia is the Roman festival celebrating the god of boundaries. Carlac is an ice planet in the middle of nowhere with few inhabitants and even fewer food sources. Ben didn't treat himself well after that final rejection, and Hux took advantage of it. Ben was left there, more or less for dead. 
> 
> Come say hello on twitter! @iceplums


End file.
